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Bluelighter
Assuming ... (that I am bored, stoned of hash and some nice supposed 'Orange bud mixed up with Trainwreck and about to self medicate with opiates (prescription of course) and I remembered the Sopranos are on tonite and did I say I am bored)...and?
That cold chicago morning sometime in the early 90's, the Eldorado rounded the corner and and parked curb side idling silently. Steam rising-up thru the storm drains projecting images of bone-chilling weather. The bus stops are just starting to fill up with the low percentage of people that actually work, bundled up in scarfs, knit hats, and ripped coats. Two teenagers pass the time between sales by bullshitting, rolling dice, and hollering at cars. There is excitement in the air as narcotic rush is moments away, the cup of coffes lies sparcely smoking in the cup holder,
"BLOWS ROCKS< PARK"
(backwards shot of an injections speed-up and faded to grey, than to static, than to 4 color shot of 'Channel off the air)
From the time the heroin takes effect Jimmy head falls back against the seat and his eyes roll back. The gram of powder lays next to him. Previously it wen thru the hands of two 16 yr olds slanging on the corner of Sawyer and 13th. From there it came from the 'pac-man' the man incharge with suppling his districts dope spots with well, dope. Making drops of soft-ball sized baggies of prepacked heroin.
Traveling back 2 days before that day in a 4 story courtyard walk up on the near north west side, the kitchen window covered in cardboard. On the table sits 4-5 ounces of raw heroin getting processed, cut and bagged up.
Rewind...
Those 4-5 ounces of H, came off a chunck broken off a brick (kilo) from Willy 'Junior' Butler a Lieutent runnning one of the westsides districts of operations. Juniors 'brick' got passed down from Jonnie 'Big boi' Jenkins the unknown leader of Mafia Insane ViceLords. Jonnie has a young runner make a pick up from the west suburb of Oak Park, the keys to a clean, and fine mid' 90's Taurus. Located in the truck is 50 lbs of heroin that will feed the junkies of the city. The Keys (to the car) were handed to him by Jimmy Carlisie son of late once leader of the Chicago syndacate "the outfit'. Jimmy loaded the dope in the trunk from his garage of his modest unsuspect suburban home. Seperate from the mobs immediate working more of a side project they bankroll the streetgang narcotic operation. Pocketing cash and lives. To go back further gets blurry when individual investors on major shipments are silent parnters and the information is conceled from teh individiual partners. The dealmakers, moneyman, and jumping back to some Freighter steaming across the ocean. Its crew desperately awating the port of call (DC).
Staring out into the setting sun a shiphand and his mate light a joint and pass it back an forth in a timeless fasion. All the while the sun glinting in there eyes producing strange rays and colors. One of the joint smokers starts to get paranoid and wonders what his wife is doing back home, who is she with, is she safe, is he safe?
All they while some middle age parents are grappling with the husbands slowly dying mother. Stuck in a rehabiliation hospitol her eyes just are not holding a sparkle, the grandchildren stare at the wall and bite there finger nails. The Morphine drip is contributing to her dillusions of past lost memories...
Drinking Hi-balls with sparkly glass drink stirers in Key Largo, amphetamine induced madwomen vacuuming. In the 1950's the pills raindown reminisenct of the overly played Skittles commercial. Escapes into the deep woods summer retreat cabin. Roasting marshmellows to a crisp, brown trout sparkling with a irradesent tint, caged in a woven wooden basket. Ripples that start from the lone canoe clad in a a birch tree skin wrap, thru the golden pond they dance around my ankels. Twisting around on the rope swing, splashing up walls of transparent water. Viewable from the Tree-fort carefully constructed by Grandfather, Father, and Son.
Fuzzy navels and teenage sex, careless summer days, wasting the afternoons sitting at the country club pool, watching the water shed off the breasts of some new 18yr old I will have naked at some future party in some house on the hill. Twisted thru the Horse trails, LSD explodes, and money flows. Cozy back yard decks tucked in leafy surroundings, old copper tubs filled with ice and bottled beer.
Whats the matter with the crowd Im seeing?
Dont you know that theyre out of touch?
Should I try to be a straight A-student?
"If you are then you think too much. Dont you
know about the new fashion honey? All you need are looks and a whole lotta money."
Its the next phase, new wave, dance craze, anyways
Its still rock and roll to me.
Hot funk, cool punk, even if its old junk.
Its still rock and roll to me.
Burst thru the speakers and the kids on sitting on the side of the house necking beers, passing a joint, and deciding on who's party to go to tonite, my cares drift away and the sun sinks and the shadows come out to play.
Mike is so drunk he cant ride a bicycle.
what...?
huh...?
That cold chicago morning sometime in the early 90's, the Eldorado rounded the corner and and parked curb side idling silently. Steam rising-up thru the storm drains projecting images of bone-chilling weather. The bus stops are just starting to fill up with the low percentage of people that actually work, bundled up in scarfs, knit hats, and ripped coats. Two teenagers pass the time between sales by bullshitting, rolling dice, and hollering at cars. There is excitement in the air as narcotic rush is moments away, the cup of coffes lies sparcely smoking in the cup holder,
"BLOWS ROCKS< PARK"
(backwards shot of an injections speed-up and faded to grey, than to static, than to 4 color shot of 'Channel off the air)
From the time the heroin takes effect Jimmy head falls back against the seat and his eyes roll back. The gram of powder lays next to him. Previously it wen thru the hands of two 16 yr olds slanging on the corner of Sawyer and 13th. From there it came from the 'pac-man' the man incharge with suppling his districts dope spots with well, dope. Making drops of soft-ball sized baggies of prepacked heroin.
Traveling back 2 days before that day in a 4 story courtyard walk up on the near north west side, the kitchen window covered in cardboard. On the table sits 4-5 ounces of raw heroin getting processed, cut and bagged up.
Rewind...
Those 4-5 ounces of H, came off a chunck broken off a brick (kilo) from Willy 'Junior' Butler a Lieutent runnning one of the westsides districts of operations. Juniors 'brick' got passed down from Jonnie 'Big boi' Jenkins the unknown leader of Mafia Insane ViceLords. Jonnie has a young runner make a pick up from the west suburb of Oak Park, the keys to a clean, and fine mid' 90's Taurus. Located in the truck is 50 lbs of heroin that will feed the junkies of the city. The Keys (to the car) were handed to him by Jimmy Carlisie son of late once leader of the Chicago syndacate "the outfit'. Jimmy loaded the dope in the trunk from his garage of his modest unsuspect suburban home. Seperate from the mobs immediate working more of a side project they bankroll the streetgang narcotic operation. Pocketing cash and lives. To go back further gets blurry when individual investors on major shipments are silent parnters and the information is conceled from teh individiual partners. The dealmakers, moneyman, and jumping back to some Freighter steaming across the ocean. Its crew desperately awating the port of call (DC).
Staring out into the setting sun a shiphand and his mate light a joint and pass it back an forth in a timeless fasion. All the while the sun glinting in there eyes producing strange rays and colors. One of the joint smokers starts to get paranoid and wonders what his wife is doing back home, who is she with, is she safe, is he safe?
All they while some middle age parents are grappling with the husbands slowly dying mother. Stuck in a rehabiliation hospitol her eyes just are not holding a sparkle, the grandchildren stare at the wall and bite there finger nails. The Morphine drip is contributing to her dillusions of past lost memories...
Drinking Hi-balls with sparkly glass drink stirers in Key Largo, amphetamine induced madwomen vacuuming. In the 1950's the pills raindown reminisenct of the overly played Skittles commercial. Escapes into the deep woods summer retreat cabin. Roasting marshmellows to a crisp, brown trout sparkling with a irradesent tint, caged in a woven wooden basket. Ripples that start from the lone canoe clad in a a birch tree skin wrap, thru the golden pond they dance around my ankels. Twisting around on the rope swing, splashing up walls of transparent water. Viewable from the Tree-fort carefully constructed by Grandfather, Father, and Son.
Fuzzy navels and teenage sex, careless summer days, wasting the afternoons sitting at the country club pool, watching the water shed off the breasts of some new 18yr old I will have naked at some future party in some house on the hill. Twisted thru the Horse trails, LSD explodes, and money flows. Cozy back yard decks tucked in leafy surroundings, old copper tubs filled with ice and bottled beer.
Whats the matter with the crowd Im seeing?
Dont you know that theyre out of touch?
Should I try to be a straight A-student?
"If you are then you think too much. Dont you
know about the new fashion honey? All you need are looks and a whole lotta money."
Its the next phase, new wave, dance craze, anyways
Its still rock and roll to me.
Hot funk, cool punk, even if its old junk.
Its still rock and roll to me.
Burst thru the speakers and the kids on sitting on the side of the house necking beers, passing a joint, and deciding on who's party to go to tonite, my cares drift away and the sun sinks and the shadows come out to play.
Mike is so drunk he cant ride a bicycle.
what...?
huh...?
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